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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440064">Fireflowers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Worldweavers One-shots and Snippets [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works &amp; Related Fandoms, Worldweavers - Multiverse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Flowers, Inspired by Fanfiction, M/M, Modern Era, Post-Canon, Short One Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 11:28:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicholas is late home from work, and Sören has a surprise for him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sören Sigurdsson (OMC)/Dooku</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Worldweavers One-shots and Snippets [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fireflowers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/709915">Learning to Fly</a> by Verhalen.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Verhalen, who prompted "Rose - Nicholas, Sören" in response to a meme on my DW journal.</p><p>Sören is Verhalen's OC; Nicholas is a modern day spin on Count Dooku from the Star Wars canon.  Verhalen writes them together in his series Northern Lights, and other AUs.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em><strong>May 2015</strong></em><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Sören was not in the living room or the kitchen when Nicholas returned from work. Unusual; provided he didn't have a shift, Sören would normally start dinner if he knew Nicholas would be home late. Briefly Nicholas wondered if he might have gone to bed to catch up on missed sleep, but their room was empty, except for Tobias, who was curled on top of the wardrobe, ears flat to his head.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Very odd.</em><br/>
<br/>
It wasn't like Sören to disappear without leaving a message. Nicholas pulled out his phone to ring him – and then he heard the unmistakeable whining whir of a drill coming from the roof terrace.<br/>
<br/>
Nicholas smiled; that certainly explained why Tobias had taken refuge on top of a wardrobe. He didn't know much about the little cat's history before he rescued him, but even after eleven years, Tobias still started at loud noises and would bolt for cover at the mere mention of the vacuum cleaner.<br/>
<br/>
More curious than anxious now, Nicholas left Tobias and pushed open the frosted glass door that led on to the terrace. Sören stood on a bench outside, shirt removed, using the electric drill to set small hooks into the wall – hooks, Nicholas presumed, for the baskets of roses set carefully around the little rooftop garden. The blooms were all of the same type – tightly furled, many-layered and tiny, each flower no bigger than the span of two fingers together. They burned orange-gold in the evening light; the edges of their petals were the sharp crimson of fresh blood; at their centre they were a brilliant white like the heart of a blazing hearth.<br/>
<br/>
Sören paused and looked up from his drilling, and smiled shyly when he saw his partner watching. “I thought you'd be later than this. I meant to be finished by the time you got home.”<br/>
<br/>
“The first year papers took less time to mark than expected. A number of the candidates had missed questions out, or simply misunderstood what they were being asked.” Nicholas stooped by one of the baskets and carefully turned one of the flowers upwards to smell it. The delicate fragrance made him think of lemons and spiced summer oils. “What are they?”<br/>
<br/>
“Fireflower roses. I wanted to do something nice for you, since so much has happened lately, and you've been so busy with grading exams, and I thought the colours would work with the ones you already had...” Sören gestured at the clusters of cream and yellow and pink adorning the pots and trellises around them, and bit his lip. “You don't hate them, do you?”<br/>
<br/>
“<em>What? </em> Sören, no.” Nicholas straightened up and placed a hand on Sören's toned waist, stroked a thumb over the bones of his hip. “They're enchanting. Just like you.”</p>
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